


terms & conditions

by superlawyer



Series: descent [1]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Power Man and Iron Fist (Comics)
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Multi, Shameless Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Vaguely 1970s Marvel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superlawyer/pseuds/superlawyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke and Danny have a proposition for Matt. What transpires after Matt accepts, however, will certainly leave more than just physical marks on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	terms & conditions

**Author's Note:**

> This might shape up to be the first in a loose series centered around Matt and his... adventures tentatively known as Descent. Still plotting and planning. More on that later!
> 
> For now, here’s this monstrosity of a plot-seed-masquerading-as-PWP. And as always, I’m sorry, in advance for any mischaracterizations or general badness. Also. Shield your innocents. Hide.

The Heroes for Hire don’t fuck around.

If there’s one thing they are, they’re methodical. They have the hero act down to a monetized science. Luke is the bruiser, the relentless, almost playful brawler. He’ll ball guys up and slam them down like he’s playing streetball. Danny is the finesse guy — theatrics, but with meaning, and force, a regular Bruce Lee, swapping a yellow jumpsuit for green. 

How Matt finds himself in the midst of a mob of low-level bad guys in generic uniforms coming at them in all directions, Luke yelling all known variations of “motherfucker” like it’s going out of style, and Danny doing tornado kicks and high kicks that would put the Rockettes to shame, and _how is any mortal being that flexible_ kicks, is actually not all that funny or convoluted of a story. 

Matt Murdock, blind attorney by day, or so goes his dossier, saw them fending off the herd on the way home from the office, and, briefcase of Important Legal Documents in hand, decided they needed some pro bono help. He promptly hurled into action, pulling off his linen suit in a back alley. After a brief moment of silence for his khaki-colored suit, which would inevitably be stained and soaked by the griminess of the alley, he tossed his briefcase in the general direction of a dumpster, and joined them. 

So, here he is, little blind lawyer boy, adding to the array of fists, flips, and dodges, best he can, which happens to be most people’s very best, mentally noting whatever Danny does, and trying to not totally imitate those moves. If Danny kicks a pistol out of one of the mob’s hands, Matt punches the guy coming at him with a knife, instead. 

On his radar, Matt senses a body flying in his general direction. He meets him with a quick roundhouse. 

“Wait,” Matt calls out, “Was that guy _thrown_ at me?” 

Luke laughs, responding, mid-punch, “Thought you’d want to play some baseball.” 

Matt ducks under a punch, “Well, it is spring…!” 

Danny takes the last guy out with a simple kick to the groin. Luke calls the “garbage disposal”, and they wait around, guarding the pile of incapacitated HYDRA rejects at their feet. 

“You do good work, red,” Luke says, his partner nodding in agreement, “But don’t expect to get a cut.” 

Matt holds his hands up, shaking his head, “I’m not, I’m not. Just happy to help. Nice little after-work downtime.” He rolls his neck, for emphasis.

“Downtime, huh?” Danny repeats. He shoots Luke a look. Matt can hear a change in both of their heartbeats. _Uh-oh._ Luke and Danny exchange more looks, while Matt listens in to the _real_ conversation, pulse lines rising and falling, then rising and peaking a whole lot more. 

Danny’s heart is beating uncharacteristically fast. He opens his mouth, then closes it, lips forming a thin line as his brow furrows. 

“We want to fuck you.” Luke states, casually, shaking his head at his speechless partner, his arms folded. 

This no-nonsense mentality clearly transfers into all aspects of their lives.

Matt chokes, coughing repeatedly. He knew it was going to be something worth being nervous over, but he couldn’t have guessed _that._ He’d heard some rumors about them, but gossip is just gossip, right?

As the pair looks at Matt, exuding hormones and pheromones, the air around them thick with intent, their hearts beating faster in anticipation, he thinks he might have to start believing some of these rumors. 

“I,” Matt starts, “ _What?_ “ 

“We want to… have sex with you, Matt,” Danny reiterates, fidgeting slightly, uncharacteristic for someone so “at peace”, “It’d be a one-time thing, really. No strings attached, no pressure, no having to call. You’d be free to leave when it’s over. We just… yeah.” Luke nods in the affirmative.

“But,” Matt continues, “What? Why? How?” 

Luke puts a hand on the redhead’s shoulder, looking him dead in the eye, a gesture that Matt can feel in his bones, even if he can’t _see_ it, “Listen - have you ever fucked a guy?” 

Matt shakes his head, a blush blooming all over the exposed parts of his face under the mask. 

“It’s not all that much unlike anal with a chick,” Luke pauses, then laughs, “If you’re on the giving end, though. Receiving is different.” Danny hums a telling “mhmmm”. 

“What we’ll do,” Danny jumps in, “Is take turns, at first. Once you get used to it, we’re going to do it all together. I mean, not all in the same spot. But, like, I think you know what I mean, right?” 

Matt can feel his face and neck heat up even more. He’s almost positive his skin is blending in with the red of his suit, by this point. 

“So, are you in?” Luke asks, before turning away to meet with the collectors.

Matt’s brain panics, his stomach churns, his skin burns. He can feel nausea creep up on him. He just wants to turn around and run home. 

Danny murmurs, rubbing a hand up and down Matt’s arm gently, “Promise we’ll make it good for you.”

“Okay,” Matt blurts out, “I’m, I’m in.” It’s as if his brain took the backseat to his dick, a novel concept not known to someone like Matt, or so he wants other people to believe. 

—

He almost wants to go back and beat himself up. Almost. But then, he looks down and sees, in bands of magenta, a head bobbing in his lap, and then, in those same bands, he sees fingers coat themselves in liquid, and he doesn’t want to be anywhere but here, in Danny’s apartment, on his California King bed, distressingly nude and flushed.

Luke pulls at Danny’s hair with his dry hand, “Enough. You keep doing that, and he won’t last. Let’s not be _that_ mean to him, eh?” 

Danny pulls up with a pop, his lips spit-shined and swollen, “Sorry. Just like seeing him like this.”

“Like this” is Matt with his head back against the headboard, half-slouching, his muscles simultaneously soothingly slack and painfully tense, his mouth open, his hair messy, his white eyes switching rapidly from being squeezed shut to being disarmingly wide. “Like this” is Matt hissing, balling his fists in the sheets, trying not to show that he’s enjoying this _too_ much, despite what his at-attention length has to say on the matter. Luke sizes him up in one glance, then high-fives Danny. 

_High-fives._

Matt wants to recede into himself. He hasn’t felt this way since junior high. He feels like a Spring Break conquest, a girl to check off the “list” with the kind of delight and self-satisfaction that warrants high-fives. Oh, god. Matt _is_ that girl, at this moment, as Luke pulls his hips down the bed and up on a flattened pillow, and pushes a finger in without warning. 

“Shit.” Matt gasps. The sensation is nothing like he’s ever experienced, and he’s experienced some strange things. He hisses, more under his breath, readjusting his volume, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. Danny sits above him on the bed, running his fingers through his hair affectionately, saying little mantras to try to relax him. 

Luke adds another, moving them in and out, faster and faster, scissoring experimentally.

“They weren’t joking about you being uptight, were they?” Luke remarks. Salt in the wound. Insult to injury. 

Danny whispers, clueing the redhead in, “It’s a compliment.” 

“Damn right it’s a compliment.” Luke confirms, loudly, as always, pushing in a third finger achingly slow, “Good lord, you really _are_ a virgin choirboy.” 

Matt tenses up and frowns, wincing at the stretch, wanting to rebuttal, but too brain dead to defend himself. He’s met with more calming whispers and hair petting from Danny. 

“Rand?” Luke looks up from his work at the blond, pulling his fingers out, “You’re up.”

Danny looks at Matt, then replies, “I think I’m going to try out a different way.” Luke shrugs, then gets off the bed, opting to sit in the chair nearby, stroking himself idly. 

“You know what ‘cowgirl’ is, right?” Danny questions, rolling on a condom and slicking himself up.

Matt swallows, thickly, and nods. 

“That’s what I want us to try.” Danny says as he sits back, flush against the headboard, posture straight and alert. 

Matt exhales, drawing out a long sigh. He moves to straddle Danny, trying not to collapse under the weight of his anxiety. Danny glances up at him and kisses him, unassumingly soft and sweet, and holds his waist. He deepens the kiss, and their lips move against each other in a jumbled kind of harmony. Danny takes the opportunity to help lower Matt down on him, and Matt groans into the kiss, tensing up, ambushed. He pulls away, gasping, needing air, adjusting.

“ _Fuck._ ” Matt sucks in through his teeth as Danny slowly meets him, burying in deeper. 

“Relax.” Danny advises, steadying him. He’s all the way in to the hilt now, and his eyes flutter shut.

“Matt, move yourself. It’ll be better. _Move._ ” Luke suggests, coaching from the sidelines. 

Matt tries to relax his muscles, tries to think of what Stick taught him, tries to think of all of those lessons he’s already gleaned in his life. All he can think of is that he’s never felt anything like this before, that it’s foreign, that it’s wrong. Danny’s hips twitch, trying to resist the urge to buck up, to fuck into him. _That_ is a feeling Matt has felt before, and is something he can relate to. He _has_ to move. It’s only the right thing to do.

Matt puts his hands on the top of the headboard, needing leverage. He lifts up, then rolls his hips back down, shuddering at the sensation, the drag. It’s Danny’s turn to hiss. 

“He’s tight, right?” Luke asks, punctuating the hushed display. Danny weakly gives a thumbs-up and forces his eyes open.

Matt moves himself increasingly faster, regaining strength. He’s the _Man Without Fear_ , right? This is nothing for him. He’s had his life destroyed more times than he wants to keep track of, he’s had all sorts of injuries, he’s had all strains of anguish and angst. This is nothing. Just sex. 

Or so he wants to believe, as Danny starts to lose control. He clutcheshis waist and thrusts up into him, skin slapping against skin, entrancingly rhythmic. Matt groans, his head lolling back, his muscles relaxing, getting fucked open, raw. He holds the headboard for dear life, his knuckles white, until he loses his grip. Danny sits up off the board, leaning forward into Matt, and wraps his arms around his waist, holding him up at the angle, interlocked hands digging into the small of his back. His thrusts start to hit a place Matt didn’t even know _existed_ , and it throws him, his cock now painfully hard, aching, each movement sending electricity through him, sending his senses into overdrive, and then disruption, everything reading in jagged, scrambled bands. Danny buries his face in Matt’s neck, going harder, deeper, less quick, shallow thrusts, more drive. Matt snakes his arms around Danny, needing to not fall apart, fighting to not touch himself, because then the game would be over, and this can’t stop here, not _now,_ not when he needs it this much. 

Luke provides “color” commentary, calling out things like, “Fuck that ass, man!” and generally cheering on his friend, voice carrying through the groans, hisses, and other swears. With Danny getting loud and Matt finally giving into his moans a little more, the room becomes a pool of sound for Matt to drown in, and he wants to, he wants to so _bad_ , but he can’t come, because Luke hasn’t gotten a turn yet, and Matt just wants to _come_ , and then Matt hears Danny’s heart beat even faster, and feels his thrusts grow more erratic, and he can feel the heat radiate off of him in bigger waves. He knows it’s coming, knows that it’ll be Luke’s turn soon, and that fills him with even more tense lust.

Danny bites down on Matt’s shoulder and comes, his thrusts slowing to a halt as his hips spasm. Matt, perhaps subconsciously, tightens himself around him, milking it out, needing to move on, needing to get release, too. After a few moments of heaving and panting, Danny pulls out, spent. 

“He’s all yours.” The blond tells Luke as he slinks off the bed and ties off, “I need some orange juice like, now.” He shoots Luke another _look_ , then ducks out of the bedroom into the kitchen, tossing his trash on the way out. 

Luke’s already prepared, rubbered, slicked up, and _definitely_ hard. 

“Damn, he really got you, didn’t he?” Luke says, shaking his head, examining Matt’s exhausted body, “Hands and knees. Or, better yet, just lay on your stomach, put your face against the pillows, and I’ll take it from there. Just… relax.” 

Matt’s so miserable, so hard. He’ll do anything to get him closer to the end. He gets into position, laying out. Luke, on his knees, draws Matt’s hips up enough to meet him, and pushes in as much as he can. Matt tries not to cry out by biting his lip and balling up his fists. Luke, holding his hips, slams into him, then back out all the way, then right back in, stretching him just enough to make him want to whine. Luke knows what he’s doing. He wants Matt to break. He wants to take pleasure not only in the act, but the greatest achievement of all - the break. Matt knows this act all too well, having pulled it on more than a few women in his time.

Luke warned him. Being on the receiving end _is_ different. 

Luke fucks him like he’s _his_ , like he’s a toy to be used, and it disturbs Matt how hot that makes him. He pushes and pushes, relentless, and, yes, _powerful._ Matt hates him for being so sturdy, for not knowing what it’s like to be destroyed like this, at least not as a comparatively regular guy and not an impuncturable super man. Matt’s still trying not to cry out, trying so hard. He hides his face in the pillow, hoping to muffle his moans. 

“Not fooling me.” Luke grunts, tugging up at Matt’s hair just hard enough to pull his face out of the pillow, “Go on.” 

“W-what?” Matt grits out, fists tangled in the sheets. He feels Luke move over him, straddling him, muscular arms on either side of him, trapping him in. Matt reflexively arches his back up to meet him, needing to be comfortable, needing to not have his erection buried into the bed, no matter how soft the mattress is. Everything hurts.

Luke stops, stilling inside of Matt, the head of his cock pressed against _that_ spot. 

“You _know_ what.” He growls. Matt officially wants to scream.

“I-” Matt’s shaking, rocking back against Luke, trying to fuck himself on him, trying to get anything, squeezing and rolling and bouncing. _Anything._

“Let it out, or I’m out.” Luke, balancing on one arm, reaches his free hand down to clutch Matt’s hip, using enough of his strength to stop him. He spanks him, _hard_. 

Matt groans, “But-“

“Whine for me.” Luke demands, pushing in a hit to his spot.

“Engh, fuck, _Luke_.” Matt’s voice is gravelly, husky, smoky, like charred embers incarnate.

“You know what I want,” Luke starts to resume fucking him, straddling him again, “Now do it.” 

Danny saunters back into the room, lazily, already half-hard, “What I miss?”

“Just Matt trying to play both blind and mute.” Luke rebuts, hips smacking against Matt’s ass, the skin deep pink and imprinted with hand marks, “You want back in?”

“Yeah,” Danny watches them, rolling his hand over his length, “His mouth looks good.”

Luke leans back up, pulling Matt on his knees. Matt has an idea of how this goes, having been through college and around a few shows. He lifts himself up on his hands, and Danny settles in front of him, tangling a hand in his hair, then sliding the head of his cock between his lips. 

“Well, shit. Now I can’t hear him.” Luke chuckles, sweat rolling down his face. 

“A muffled cry is still a cry.” Danny reminds him, coaxing more of his shaft into Matt’s mouth. 

Matt whines in the back of his throat, then moans around Danny, the vibrations causing Danny to tug at his hair. All of this hair pulling makes Matt briefly consider shaving his head, but he’d be damned if he didn’t like being so needed. 

They had this, like their day job, down to a science. Luke thrusts forward, which pushes Matt into Danny, which pushes Danny’s cock into the back of Matt’s throat, which makes Matt gag and sputter, which makes them both make celebratory sounds, as if their favorite team just won the big game. Matt ricochets between them, more and more, and it’s so much sensation, almost too much. He’s picking up on everything, and nothing, his radar going haywire. 

He can hear their heartbeats pound in his ears and the ticking of the clock on the wall behind them and Luke slapping against him, but he can also hear nothing, at all. He can smell the sweat and _sex_ thick in the air, and the oranges on Danny’s breath, but then nothing, at all. He can taste Danny, musk and sugar and vaguely metallic pre-come, but then nothing, nothing but his own spit pooling and seeping out of his mouth and down his chin. He can feel Luke’s thrusts drag in and out of him, more unevenly, more urgently, he can feel Danny fuck his mouth in shallow, needy thrusts, but then he’s numb to the pain, the aching of their cocks inside of him, the claustrophobia of being sealed shut like this, between them, looming over him, using him. 

Then he feels everything, at once, or so it seems, to him. He feels Luke fuck him through his orgasm, twitching and throbbing and grunting. He feels Danny release in his mouth, and tastes him, swallowing what he can, the blond pulling out mid-way, wanting to sign his artwork. He feels himself explode in spurts, finally able to do so, his body spasming and shaking. He feels the grasp of Luke’s hands holding on to his hips, trying to keep him from totally collapsing, and hears more soothing words from Danny. The orgasm possesses him and radiates throughout every inch of him, out of his pores, into the air. He sees auras of brilliant light, and basks in the release, the ultimate catharsis. It feels like a high tide of cool water washes over him after being stranded in the desert for weeks. He’s never had such a strong one, in his life.

“Oh,” Matt collapses in a heap on the bed, Danny and Luke having pulled away to watch their handiwork, “ _Oh_ my _fucking_ god.” 

“He took god’s name in vain.” Luke remarks, “Must’ve really shook him up.” Danny laughs. Matt lifts his head up and turns to glare at them, a gesture that is often made doubly terrifying by his milky white, wide eyes.

Maybe it’d be a more menacing gesture if he didn’t still have some of Danny’s come on his cheek, all sorts of hand marks on his ass, hips, and waist, and the most dramatic case of sex hair seen so far by mortal men. 

“My shit _hurts_.” Luke chuckles, grimacing, “I need to put some ice on it or something. Just couldn’t get enough.”

“Don’t blame you, man,” Danny does a kind of intricate, but brief, fist bump with his partner, “I could’ve used some self-restraint myself. I’m spent. I don’t think there’s any, uh, _chi_ left in me.”

“‘Chi’,” Luke reaches into the bathroom for a towel, tossing one to Danny, “That’s one way to put it. Looks like Matt’s got some on his face right now.” 

Matt rolls over to face them, blushing, “Wow, fuck you guys.”

“Again? You just did,” Luke teases, “I don’t think either of us are ready for a round two.” 

Matt struggles to sit up, his body aching, “If I’m going to Hell, I hope to see both of you there, roasting below me.”

“‘Roasting’?” Danny’s turn to join in, “You’re the one who just got spitroasted.” 

“Got ‘im!” Luke cackles, and they high five, again. 

Luke and Danny. Just two, regular ol’ bros who happened to tag-team the most notorious protector of Hell’s Kitchen, an urban legend turned local hero, feared by all criminals and thugs in the city. They, of course, chat it up and banter as if what just happened is nothing unusual.

“Laugh it up now, but so help you if you say a _word_ about this to anyone.” Matt forces himself up, trying not to visibly limp his way to the bathroom to clean himself up.

“That’s all part of the terms and conditions, remember, lawyer?” Luke replies, starting to get dressed, “You held up your end; we’ll hold up ours.” 

Matt sucks a breath through his teeth as he cleans himself up. He takes a mental inventory of the damage: a drying wound on his shoulder from Danny’s teeth, bruises on his waist, hips, back, and ass, and all sorts of pain. 

“You guys should really just do this to your assignments,” Matt rasps out from the bathroom, applying a band-aid to his shoulder, “This is a much more effective way of brutally kicking someone’s ass.” 

“But we don’t want to fuck those guys,” Danny chimes in, looking for clothes for Matt to wear, “You’re prettier than them, limber, and just… more fun to take down.”

“Exactly,” Luke adds on, doing his belt, “This was made even better by taking your rep into account.”

Matt catches a t-shirt and jeans from Danny, and responds, quizzically, “My rep…?”

“Yeah. You’re all ‘ooh, justice, I’m so cool and mysterious, I’m a badass’. Well, as Daredevil. As Matt… different story.” Danny informs him, lying out on his bed, still nude.

“What’s the ‘different story’?” Matt pulls on the t-shirt and jeans, buttoning them, silently praying that the t-shirt doesn’t have something ridiculous on it.

Luke and Danny exchange looks, their secondary form of communication. In unison, they reply, “Nothing. Means nothing.” 

Matt frowns, then shakes his head out, trying to fluff his hair back in some state of order, “Whatever. I don’t have time to stick around. I have profiles to write.” Matt spritzes himself with some of Danny’s cologne, enough to cover up the _scent_ on him until he got home to shower.

He walks, comically stiff, out of the bathroom, collecting his costume in his arms and tucking it into a spare bag, “This was, uh.” 

“Nice?” Danny suggests.

“Sure,” Matt nods, “I wouldn’t consider this ‘nice’ in any form, but it was… yeah. I’m. Bye.” Matt shuffles, obviously limping, out of the bedroom and out of the apartment, the door already unlocked, the implications of that fact enough to make Matt want to disappear for a while, even more.

Luke and Danny watch the redhead escape, laughing to each other.

“That, my good friend, is that ‘different story’.” Danny says, and they both laugh even harder. 


End file.
